A Silver Flash
by Willowtreemuse
Summary: Dr. Pike is just your run of the mill pompous jerk - until his own brand of carelessness triggers something terrible in Jane.
1. Chapter 1

'God, he's so annoying!' I think to myself, crossing my arms with a huff that I sincerely hope he overhears.

"Dr. Pike – I attempt to interject, leaning my torso forward, arms still folded, to peer over his shoulder as he carves away at my murder victim, fucking _humming_ to himself. He ignores me – no surprise there. Every time Maura calls this clown in to handle something he acts so high and mighty – written all over his gross old mug, with that superior smile – even this week, when the only reason his damned ass hauled here is because the BPD is practically drowning badge-deep in bodies. Yea, that's right, we've got a mini-massacre on our hands, and Pike is still too goddamn pompous to cooperate with a lowly detective like me.

Jesus!

(Naturally, despite this setback, I repeat myself).

"Dr. PIKE," I assert, a little more forcefully through gritted teeth, so that it comes out like a growl. I shoulder up next to him to get a better look at the male vic's chest, at the bullet-torn heart displayed inside.

"Please move out of my way, Officer Rizzoli," is all Pike says to me, and I bristle, physically biting my tongue to prevent the enraged "DETECTIVE" from spewing out of my mouth – and then the asshole barely takes the time to even spare a glance my way, and I balk, screwing my jaw shut as I purposefully stay right where I am, thank you very much.

"Excuse me?" I ask dryly, mostly rhetorically too, because if he repeats himself in that tone again I might actually have to hurt him. Bad.

"If you don't get out of my way I will be forced to call Dr. Isles off her _extended_ lunch break to have you removed from my work-space." Dr. Pike-up-my-ass 'repeats' himself, and my blood pressure hits the fan.

"Extended -? YOUR work – oh, that is it pal."

'He's not worth the jail time Jane,' I internally bemoan, clenching my fists at my side ' don't kill him…not until Maura gets back to help you formulate the perfect alibi.' I smirk at the thought, but quickly cover myself.

"Well?" Pike shoots back smugly at my lack of action, before 'tut'-ing distastefully at my indignant look, and nodding his head towards the door before hunching over again to make a small incision on John Doe's heart tissue. It's then that I see a metal glint I the organ as it's shifted slightly by the tension of the sharp blade, and I get a little over-excited at my find – give me a break, I was already wired up with anger and antsy to begin with! - so I launch my hand up and into Pike's line of sight to gesture into the cavity,

"There! Did you see that? Because I know I sure d –

In a flash, Pike flips his scalpel in his hand deftly and, using the blunt end, knocks the center of my palm sharply to push my arm away.

"_Watch yourself Jane,"_ I hear the echo of a ghost inside me, even as Pike's lips move, clearly saying something else – it's like the morgue got put on mute, it's like- everything I'm hearing is pouring from my brain, and suddenly I can't breathe, I can't –

"_Jane, Jaaaaane, you're pretty little hands will get hurt! Be caaareful….."_

My vision swims, and I reach behind me to steady myself – I see Pike shout with concern that I can't hear and somehow his contorting face just makes everything worse – and my hand comes in cold, harsh contact with the only slab not housing a body today. My hand hurts, it _hurts_, and I swear it feels, in this moment, that Pike has sliced me.

Again.

"_Jaaaaaane, Jaaaaaaane. Oh, Jane."_ God, that VOICE. No. No no no….

"Jane, JANE? Are you alright?"

I shake my head to clear it, eyes squeezed shut, but nothing works, and everything inside me is buzzing, but through the electric swarm I swear I hear –

"M – Maura?"

It comes out strangled, a bitch-whisper of someone who's been shamed, broken, and a tear squeezes out past my eyelid in embarrassment. I cringe in fear at the feeling, and I still don't know what's going on. She doesn't hear me!

"Dr. Pike, you answer me right now, what on EARTH did you DO?"

Yes, Maura! Maura…God, I could really use her googlemouth to tell me what's going on right now, but the sound of her anger ratchets my panic up a notch instead, until –

"_Jane, Jane! What did he do to you? Oh my God."_

"_It hurts it hurts it hurts, GOD it hurts, Korsak…hurts…it…"_

_Cold, hard ground, and I know there's blood everywhere, I can't see it, can't see anything but hate, and anger, and pain, but I can feel it running down my hands…._

-and then suddenly the world gets darker. I feel a dull falling sensation, and the sounds in me and around me go blissfully black.


	2. Chapter 2

Light filters back into my vision slowly like reverse blind spots, prickling at the blackness until I can see where I am, and I realize that where I am is actually Maura's office…and I have no idea how I got here. I'm on her less-than-comfortable couch; at least, I think I am. It seems to be breathing underneath me…

Umm?

I grunt, trying to shift around but find that I'm nearly immobile, a dead weight is holding me down, and I almost panic again.

'deep breaths, Rizzoli, get it together' I scold myself inwardly, before looking down at my torso and seeing pale arms tightly encircled around my waist.

'Oh, no big deal,' I think sarcastically, 'I'm just on top of Maura – isn't that normal!'

I let out an annoyed cross between a whine and a groan, startling the woman in question. She barely resists throwing me completely off her, and I feel her breathing go ragged and panicky for a few seconds, until she gently lifts me – or rather, pushes me up – into a sitting position, hopping up almost frantically and rearranging herself so she's seated by my side.

"Jane! You're awake!"

She sounds shocked, and looks it too. I'm beginning to think – you know, just a hunch – that this wasn't just a nap I don't remember taking.

"Yeaaa," I confirm, uncertainty masked by the dryness in my tone, "but before I uh, was awakened….why was I not, awake?" I finish awkwardly, my hands coming up to rub at my temples.

Maura doesn't answer me immediately, and I turn my head away from her to look straight ahead, now pressing the palms of my hands into my eyelids, grinding down lightly to try and relieve the headache I suddenly am all too aware of.

"Ow," I moan, "my head kills!" I press down harder, my forehead tilting downward, and I feel Maura lightly touch my back in concern. Ow, what, what a minute! What the –

"Ow, hey! My hand hurts too! What the fu –

I fling my arms away from my face and place my hands on my jittery knees, palms up. They look fine, except, on my left hand a small bruise seems to be forming. It's red, and for a split second I think I see blood…and….

And then it all comes back to me.

Pike. Hoyt. Only the second one was…some sort of dream, or a nightmare. Yea-

A waking nightmare. I had a panic attack.

"Fuck!" I shout, flying up from the couch to stand on the other side of the room, facing the wall.

I scare the living daylights out of Maura, but I can hardly bring myself to care. I sense her get up and walk slowly towards me, and even when her hand finds its way onto my shoulder I find it in me to not acknowledge her presence, at least not right away.

I can't – I don't want her to pity me. I don't know what she saw, but showing any more weakness?...It doesn't seem like a good idea right now.

"I passed out," I whisper, ashamed of myself. Maura's grip on me tightens, and I hear her sigh,

"Jane…. –

"No," I mumble, "I don't want a pep talk or – or anything right now. Just…." I turn around to look at her, and her hands drop awkwardly to her sides,

"What did he do to me, exactly?" It's not like I'd never had anxiety or a flashback before…but they weren't exactly easy to trigger in me, and the fact I got one in the midst of work instead of after the usual nightmare was kind of freaking me out.

Maura's eyes harden and lock onto mine, "he hit your hand away from his autopsy," she clips out succinctly, but the next part is nearly a growl: "with his scalpel."

I freeze, my eyes widening as the memory returns to the forefront of my mind.

"Oh," I breathe. My eyes dart down to the palms of my open hands for just a second or two, and when I look back up Maura's downright scary expression has not gone away. In fact, she looks about ready to either combust or light someone else on fire with her eyeballs. Or both.

"Maur – I begin, and then cover a break in my voice with a slight cough. "Uh. What exactly did you…do to him?" I sound…shy! Why the hell do I sound shy? Damn it!

'Whatever it was, the moron deserved it' one half of my mind argues, but the other - Mr. Righty, if you will, has a more _creative_ approach to fit his name,

'You're weak, you know that? What if the next time a suspect gets hold of your hands somehow you spiral out of control? Good going, Rizzoli. If I was Maura OR Pick-Ass I would've tore you a brand new one for being so unprofessional.'

And so, I'm basically arguing with myself. By the shift of Maura's expression away from anger and towards concern – I think she can tell. I have always been, uh, "expressive".

"I yelled at him," Maura answered, far too simply, once she saw she had my attention. And noticing my disbelieving look she amended oh-so helpfully,

"Quite loudly, I think. I'm not entirely sure what came over me. I may have also had him reassigned."

"Reassigned," I repeat flatly, "Like, to some village out west or something, St. Bumble-fuck, Mass? To a funeral parlor? Great. Less stress for me." I chuckle humorlessly, and Maura for some reason looks…sheepish. She walks away from me and moves to sit in her chair, but not before stepping forward and rubbing my shoulder briefly, almost maternally. For some reason that I don't quite understand, the idea of my best friend being 'maternal' squicks me out. I pass the gut feeling of wrongness over and follow her a bit like an obedient puppy dog (though you'd never hear me admit to such), propping myself onto her desk and swiveling myself to face her. Her head tilts thoughtfully.

"By reassign, well….I guess I'm lying aren't I? Huh. Because really if you call 'removing from the occupational premises and demanding resignation then…."

I gape, and interrupt. "You FIRED him?"

Then Maura…goddamn, she actually nods, and she _grins _– albeit tremulously. Why do I have a feeling if she wasn't forcing that smile onto her pretty little face she'd be crying right now? I see her eye twitch, and I'm sold on my theory. There's got to be more to this story. I must have done something, said something while I was falling under – or Pike must have done something to further his idiocy. Insulted her somehow while she was already scared, or mad?

I don't know. But I plan to find out.

"I don't remember anything beyond feeling scared out of my mind and then falling. Tell me." I demand, and Maura leans forward and opens her mouth –

"Well...I came back from lunch…..

...


	3. Chapter 3

It's like watching someone get shot down by a sniper – or rather, having thankfully never witnessed such an event in person , I imagine that is what it would be like.

The bullet enters flesh, but the source – the gun – is not in sight. And then comes the panic. At first I admit I am not sure if it is mine or Jane's.

But then Jane is falling back against the morgue table, and even from the doorway I see a terrifying sort of fire in her eyes. Not a passionate burn, but an uncontrollable blaze. And there is no blood, thankfully no real bullet…._I don't know_, I cry inwardly, _I don't know what's going on!_

It has been less than ten seconds. I return from my lunch break to find a complete war zone. And like a war zone, it has a jarring, surreal affect. I cannot think any longer. My mind, usually whirring with information, is blank. There is only adrenaline and fear.

With reasonable bias, I determine that Dr. Pike, as the newcomer, the stranger (_as the typical IDIOT_! my slowly rebooting mind adds uselessly)…is to blame.

I rush forward, and suddenly I'm upon them both in two entirely different ways, shoving a shouting Pike into the background physically and trying to look into Jane's darting eyes, using my free hand, the one not doing battle with the M.E. behind me, to brush brown locks off my best friends face. I can feel my heart breaking – and combined with my unadulterated rage, it is a unique, world-crushing sensation that I never wish to experience again. I imagine for a second before I catch my own distraction that the only one who can cause this kind of reaction in me is a person cruel and stupid enough to harm my Jane.

"What did you DO to her?" I shout, making sure to turn my head as far away from Jane as possible so in her current state – if she can even hear me– she does not assume the rage is fired her way.

Infuriatingly, Pike doesn't answer, and I scowl at him darkly. He just stutters and fires meaningless excuses. I turn my attention back to the person who actually needs it, using both hands now to cradle her head in my hands, cooing softly, but paradoxically, with much force,

"Jane, JANE? Are you alright?"

Her fear seems to be increasing instead of dissipating at the sound of my voice and I falter, panicking myself for a moment, actively having to resist falling back into my self-lulling habit of ridiculous Lamaze breaths.

But I repeat my inquiry, more urgently this time, louder too, just willing to break through, and she responds in such a confused and desperate whimper that although I know it to not be possible, I fear my heart stops.

"M – Maura?"

I fight the urge to throw myself onto her lap and murmur, "yea, baby, it's me. It's me" while kissing her face wherever I may reach. A sudden change in weight, in environment, in my behavior….could be catastrophic right now. To be honest, I hardly can come to terms with the source of my own sudden urge at all.

I do allow myself one quick, feather light kiss on her forehead though. And I shut my eyes tight for only a second as I turn, in preparation, to explode:

"Dr. Pike, you answer me right now, what on EARTH did you DO?"

Pike holds his hands up – from his new position of fifteen feet across the room -

_The nerve…what a coward!_

And he says…he says it almost REASONABLY, the bastard:

"She was in my way." It is then that I see the scalpel resting wrong-side up in his right hand.

My eyes burn into his, and I utter with chilling calm, "So are you."

But my hand… - my hand that has never left Jane's cheek through all of this, absentmindedly stroking in a repetitive motion that probably is my attempt at calming not just her, but the both of us, - is suddenly grasping at air.

Then comes the crash.

_Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God…._

_Jane….!_

My eyes widen and a tear of fear or rage falls quickly down my face. I whip around just as fast and fall to my knees in my constricting skirt. With a strength I honestly did not know I possessed, I am lifting her – like a child coddled sideways in my arms.

I hold her close to my chest, protectively, my knees threatening to buckle and the heels on my shoes nerve-wrackingly turning in, and shuffle to face Pike one final time,

"I want you out. I want you gone. You're not on my team anymore and you can be certain that you will be immediately re-assigned."

"To where? Why?" The imbecilic creature demands, affronted, and he dares to take a few steps towards me.

"Let me rephrase. I don't_ care_ where! But let's just say, Dr. Pike, that I will make it my duty to prevent you from ever serving the East Coast with your ill-advised, weak Medical Examiner services ever again. You're fired."

I slowly carry Jane.._my Jane,_ out the door, ignoring every ounce of my own physical pain just to get her somewhere comfortable…somewhere warm…somewhere safe.

That ruinous moron is never going to touch her OR my dead bodies again, I vow inwardly, as I stare down into her face, blessedly peaceful and beautiful in the aftermath of her horrible faint.


End file.
